I try to ignore the sound of the woman crying at the base of my throne. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and her clothes hang about her in rags, dragging against the floor as she moves. Maybe they are rags - I can't tell from my position above her.
"Please... I have no where to live, and my children..."
The woman doesn't have children, because she would have brought them with her; there was no telling what dangers awaited outside of the palace, what with all of the cutthroat bandits and those people who would smile just a bit too wide sometimes.
I shift my body about my throne, so that my back doesn't lean against one particularly jagged bone.
"I would like her thrown in the dungeons." The woman's head snaps up from her weeping, staring at me in horror. "You wanted a place to live. You merely failed to specify where." Before she can scream or curse me, the guards wrap a piece of cloth around her mouth, dragging her struggling form back into a dark corner, leading to the entrace of the dungeons.
She's an old woman. Without a place to live. That's supposed to mean something, I think. But ever since I traded with the Great Demon - my soul in exchange for his magic - I've never known what that is.
